


And in the Night, He Speaks

by lividcolors



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-06-07 13:58:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6807814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lividcolors/pseuds/lividcolors
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean waits for Cas to wake up in the bunker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And in the Night, He Speaks

**Author's Note:**

> Set sometime after Dean and Sam expel Lucifer from Cas and bring him back to the bunker.

Dean talks. He talks and talks and talks. He tells Cas stories, every story he can think of, and hopes for a response. He tells him about when he was a kid, tells him about raising Sammy, about going to school and hating it, about the jobs that he started working as soon as he was able, about John, and about his first hunt. He tells him about learning to shoot and actually feeling the gun jump to life in his own hand for the first time. He talks about the nights that he spent at Bobby's, about how much he always secretly loved the peace he found there. He tells him about his first kiss and his first love. 

     And he tells him about Hell. He knows that Cas was there, has seen it firsthand, but he talks about it anyway. He talks about his nightmares and he talks about all the people he tortured, carved into by his hand. He talks about how he eventually found it boring, and how not soon after he started to almost enjoy it. He talks about what he remembers of being saved. He tells Cas all about the split second of blind white, of soundless noise, of cold fire. He talks about the flash of wings, of heads, of claws that he saw for only a fraction of a second before it all went blank. He tells Cas that he wishes he could see him like that again, not just his grace but what was undoubtedly  _him_.

     He talks about the time after Sam's death, the time he spent at Lisa's. He talks about how completely empty he felt all the time, how he was never okay and couldn't really ever find it in him to wish he was. He talks about the nights he would lay awake in Lisa's bed, and it was her's, he never thought of it as his, not even when he was at his best. He talks about the times that he cried, that he couldn't not, because he felt like he was falling apart, like he was ripping at the seams, without his brother. He tells him how he could sometimes swear that he could feel Cas there with him. About how much he always missed him, about the number of times he almost prayed, almost gave up on the white picket fence life completely, almost just picked everything he had up and left. And he talks about how easy it was, when he did.

     He tells him how much it hurt and surprised him, to find out that Cas really had been lying to them. He talks about how awful it felt, being betrayed by the one person he thought never would, and feeling like it was his fault, like he had betrayed Cas too. He talks about how angry, how confused he was. And he talks about how he sees now, how he understands what Cas did, or at least was trying to do, better. He tells Cas that he knows he has only ever had good intentions. He tells him about the pain of losing him, of the nightmares, and of the immense fear and relief he felt when he found Cas again. 

     He talks about what it felt like to see Cas when he was crazy, plagued by his brother's illness, the one that he himself had caused. He talks about how strange it felt, about how angry and just _sad_ he was all the time, about how much he missed him even when he was right there. He talks about  when he was in Purgatory, how he would pray every night, how he would make promises and promises of finding him and getting out and going home. He talks about when he finally did find him, the sting of knowing that he was deliberately staying away and  how much it hurt to hear he planned on staying away. He talks about the crushing guilt of leaving him behind, of the nightmares and the pain that seemed to follow him like a shadow. He talks about the happiness and relief he felt when Cas found him again. And he talks about the fear that Cas maybe hated him for leaving him behind.

     He tells Cas about the ache and sting not of when Cas beat him up in the crypt, but of when Cas left. About how much he constantly wished he would come back, and about how when he did come back, he was just so scared he would leave again. And he talks about how stupid, how petty, he felt when Cas was left someplace far away, stranded and human. He talks about the fear of him being killed before they could find him and of the agony that came from seeing it actually happen. He talks about the guilt and the heaviness he felt when he kicked him out of the bunker. He talks about how much he hates himself for ever doing it.

     He tells Cas that he's sorry, he's so, so sorry. He tells him that he didn't know it was that bad, and that he's so sorry he didn't pay more attention or try harder, and that he wishes with everything that he is that he had. He tells Cas about it all, about everything that he can, about all that he's ever thought.

     He talks and talks and talks, but Castiel never gives any sign of having heard it.

* * *

 

Dean tells him jokes. He remembers the way that Cas used to laugh, not a loud noise but instead usually an amused puff of air. Sometimes, if he'd found something really funny, he'd give a quiet chuckle. He can't remember the last time he heard it.

     Dean remembers a day when he'd made it his number one objective to make Cas laugh. It'd been a stupid thing to do, they were in the middle of trying to stop the apocalypse, but they'd been fighting it for what felt like years and he'd wanted a break. So he'd checked himself out, just for the day, to have himself a little fun. And he'd found that fun in Cas.

     Cas had just dropped in and was pretty clearly in a sour mood, he'd tired himself out flying to them and hated that it  _had_ been enough to tire him out, and Dean decided that his new goal for the day was to make Cas laugh. The apocalypse had been waiting for hundreds of years, he'd figured it could wait an extra day. And so, he'd set out on the strenuous task of making the angel laugh.

     It had been a hell of a lot harder than he'd been expecting. He'd tried everything. He'd tried knock-knock jokes, dirty jokes, puns, blonde jokes, bar jokes, chicken jokes, funny stories and a shit ton of others. He'd even tried learning a joke in enochian, but that had been a total bust. In the end though, none of those were what got Cas to laugh. It hadn't even been because of Dean.

     Dean had been sitting on one of the beds in the motel room next to Cas watching a documentary on the different birds of the Amazon and trying to think of more things that Cas would find funny when Cas had let out a quiet chuckle. Dean had turned to him, confused, only to find him still looking at the tv. Dean had glanced back at the tv to see what was so funny, but it had still been the documentary, talking about some sort of colorful bird. Dean had turned back to Cas, a question on his lips, but in the end he hadn't asked it. Cas had been laughing, and was in a better mood, and it had been enough. Dean had decided just not to question it and called it a victory.

     And now Dean sits in a chair next to his bed, because he hadn't even thought of putting Cas anywhere else, and tells him jokes. He tells him every funny thing he can think of and then tells him even more that he pulls from the internet. He even brought in Sam's tv, telling him it was because he got bored and Sam hadn't even questioned it, and put on as many things he thought Cas might appreciate as he could find. When Sam had come in later and seen what was on, a documentary on big cats in the wild, he still hadn't questioned it. 

     Dean tells him all the jokes he can ever think of and more, but Castiel never laughs.

* * *

 

     "Dean, I know, okay? I know how hard this is and I know how much you want to keep him here. But keeping his body on your bed, Dean? You've gotta know that's not healthy. We should at least take him to a hospital, where they can properly look after him. Come on, Dean. This isn't okay," Sam says, and his voice holds concern and worry and some exasperation.

     "Sam, I said no."

     "But Dean, we nee-"

     "No," Dean says, final.

     "Fine," Sam says, frustration coloring his voice, and he slams the door behind him. Dean sighs in relief and rests his forehead on the bed next to Cas's hand.

* * *

 

Dean sings. He sings in the morning, he sings in the afternoon, and he sings at night. He sings to Cas every chance he gets. He sings every song he knows and loves, he sings every song he thinks Cas might love, and he sings anything else with a half pleasant melody, too. 

     At night, Dean sings  _Hey Jude_ to Cas, and feels like he's breaking apart for the millionth time. Cas doesn't seems to hear.

* * *

Dean thinks. He thinks and thinks and thinks. He thinks about how bad it must've been for Cas to say yes. He thinks about how long it's been since he last heard Cas give his quiet little chuckle or smile. He thinks about the way that Cas always seemed heavier, in the days before he said yes, how he always looked like he was exhausted. Like he had the entire world resting on his shoulders. 

     Dean thinks about all the times that Cas has gone and sacrificed himself for the good of others. He thinks of how lately Cas always seems to be so tired, about how he didn't want to leave the bunker for weeks, and how when he did it was only because Dean told him to. He thinks of all of the times Cas has been hurt. He thinks of the brothers and sisters that Cas has had to kill, and he thinks about how much Cas hates doing it. He thinks about how unwilling Cas is to hurt or kill anyone these days, even when it may mean his own life. He thinks about just how willingly Cas always seems to be to throw himself on the bomb.

     Dean thinks about all of the things he's said and done to Cas over the years and wonders, not for the first time, just how much of this is because of him. 

     Dean thinks and thinks and thinks and wishes, selfishly, that Cas would tell him not to.

* * *

 

Dean wonders. He wonders what might've happened if they'd tried just a little bit harder, if he'd realized just a bit earlier.  He wonders what would've happened if they'd saved Cas, saved him before he got hurt so badly, like they should've. He wonders if Cas maybe could have found a way to forgive Dean, for everything. He wonders if maybe they could have started over again, had a new beggining.

     He wonders about what would've happened in another universe. He wonders what would've become of them if Dean had been able to stop Cas all those years ago from going ahead with his plan, if they had found a different way to stop Raphael, if their friendship had remained intact. He wonders what might've changed if  _he_ had gotten Cas out of Purgatory, like he was supposed to, and the angels hadn't been able to get a hold of him. He wonders what would've been if Dean had been able to convince Cas to stay, that he could be trusted and Cas didn't have to just take the tablet and run. He wonders what might have happened if Dean had never kicked him out of the bunker, out of his  _home_. 

     Dean wonders and dreams that Cas would wake up.

* * *

 

Dean prays. He prays when he wakes up and when he goes to bed. Dean prays to Cas and only ever stops to talk to him.

     In his prayers, Dean gives Cas as much encouragement as he can, because he can't help but feel that these are what Cas hears loudest. In his prayers, Dean tells Cas that he is a good person. He tells Cas that he has only ever tried to help and that, for every mistake he's made, he's done everything and more to fix it. Dean tells Cas that they'll fix things, that they'll fix everything. He tells Cas that they have a plan, that they _will_ get rid of Amara and Lucifer, and that he'll find a way to help Cas, too.

     In his prayers, Dean tells Cas about the people they meet, the cases they solve. He tells him about the hunter husbands and about how he thinks maybe they could settle down one day, too. Dean tells him about finding Chuck, about meeting God, and, in his prayers, Dean says that Cas should wake up so he can kick God's ass. 

     Dean is praying, praying to Cas about what they should do when he wakes up, and when he looks up he is momentarily stunned  to find Cas's blue eyes open and on him. For a terrifying second, Dean thinks that Cas has somehow woken up and died without him noticing. It's only one of the reasons he'd insisted on sleeping in the chair next to his bed, to make sure it wouldn't happen, but it's been becoming a more and more horrifyingly realistic fear. 

     After a second though, Cas gives him a tiny, achingly fragile smile and speaks. "Dean," he says, and Christ his voice is awful. It's even more ragged and deeper than normal, it sounds like he's been gargling broken glass for fun, and it manages to break on just one syllable. Dean thinks it's quite possibly the most beautiful sound he's ever heard. He smiles and leans forward, taking Cas's hand in his own.

     "Hey Cas," he says.

 


End file.
